


Like the Two of Us Both Needed

by Robomantic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angsty Schmoop, Barebacking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fingerfucking, Incest, Lap Sex, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, light comeplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 10:54:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robomantic/pseuds/Robomantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sammy left for Stanford all Dean and his dad had were each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like the Two of Us Both Needed

**Author's Note:**

> The usual apologies for possible mistakes apply, Lord knows I tried :) Comments and such are always welcome and appreciated.
> 
> Title taken from [Blunderbuss](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sInSN2_d6hc) by Jack White because this whole fic was basically inspired by these lines: 
> 
>  
> 
> _I laid you down and touched you_  
>  Like the two of us both needed  
> Safe to say that others might not  
> Approve of this and pleaded  
> “So selfish them” would be their cry  
> And who’d be brave to argue?  
> Doin' what two people need  
> Is never on the menu

Dean loved his dad. He really did. He wasn’t naïve enough to believe the man was perfect, but he knew he did the best he could. In Dean’s opinion he probably did a lot better than most people would have under the circumstances. 

When Sammy left for Stanford all Dean and his dad had were each other. Dean had been caught in the middle of a rock and a hard place between his dad and Sam. When Sam finally took off he was nothing short of devastated, but he held strong and kept it to himself, focusing all his energy on the hunt while his dad expressed his disappointment and betrayal through passive anger and bottles of whiskey. 

Part of Dean, as unlikely as he was to ever admit it, had wanted to follow Sam, but the idea of abandoning his dad was unthinkable. Sometimes he felt like he was the only thing keeping his dad tethered at all after Sam left. The urge to train and protect Dean grounded John and Dean kept his dad’s drinking from getting out of hand and made sure he slept and ate every once in a while. 

Dean could never abandon him. Dean loved him. He’d do _anything_ for him, but he was afraid that anything might not be enough. Sometimes he was afraid _everything_ might not be enough. There wasn’t a word big enough for the commitment Dean had to his father.

Usually when his dad got drunk he’d get quiet and sorta glassy eyed and spend the night catching up on research or staring through, not really at, the tv (if they weren’t working a job). Other times things were different.

Sometimes the drink seemed to melt away all of his dad’s anger; the protective shell that kept all his broken pieces together. All that was left for him after that was sadness. Sadness at the loss of his wife, Dean and Sam’s mother. Sadness for the childhood his kids never got to have and for the future he just couldn’t see. Not for him, not for any of them. 

Dean saw those nights coming from a mile away. It was his duty to keep his dad together. He owed the man that much. He owed him everything. 

Dean gathered up the broken pieces of his father and led him to one of the motel room’s too-firm beds to sit him down. He was totally complacent to his son’s guidance, too far gone in his own head, so Dean undressed him down to his boxers and tee shirt. John barely reacted other than shifting enough to help Dean get his jeans off. 

“Come on Dad.” Dean said, pulling back the stiff motel sheets. John just looked up at him, eyes red, but never quite making it as far as tears. He closed his eyes and nodded his head, the small gesture speaking volumes. 

 

John didn’t like giving up control. He was always the man in charge; the guy that gave the orders. He couldn’t fight back the shame at letting himself get to this point. He should have been taking care of Dean, not the other way around. He just didn’t have the will to resist Dean’s care at that point and he didn’t want to. 

John climbed under the sheets and stared at the wall as Dean undressed for the night, all the way down to boxer-briefs and that amulet he always wore. Then, like he always did on these nights, Dean crawled into bed next to his dad. 

The first time he did it, John had tried to argue. It was about the only time Dean had ever defied him. When he told Dean to go back to his own bed all Dean had said was _’No sir.’_ and then climbed in next to him anyway. 

John wouldn’t deny that the warmth of shared body heat and the sound of Dean’s quiet breathing was a comfort to him. He slept better with Dean tucked in close, his head resting on his father’s arm. Even the nightmares weren’t as bad when he had Dean next to him. 

John eventually gave up trying to talk Dean out of it. He didn’t have the strength and, truth be told, he hoped he never did. He wanted Dean there. Enough that sometimes he wished he could pull his boy into bed with him even on the good nights. Well better nights, at least. John Winchester didn’t really have good nights. 

Dean crawled into the bed like he’d done so many times before. He immediately scooted up against John’s back and threw an arm around his waist, tucking his face in between his dad’s shoulder blades and letting out a warm breath. John relaxed into the touch, relief washing over him in a wave; sinking into Dean and away from the sadness that threatened to overtake him. 

Dean’s hand was rubbing small gentle circles into the flesh of John’s side, the movement so subtle that John wondered if he even realized he was doing it. John put his hand over Dean’s and squeezed before rolling over towards him. 

John still couldn’t quite meet Dean’s eyes. He couldn’t handle that love and hope directed at him, so pure and complete and unfailing. Dean never doubted him, though he often had every reason to. John didn’t deserve it, but God help him, he couldn’t turn it away either. 

Instead, John nuzzled into the warmth of Dean’s neck. He breathed in the smell of his son; warm leather, gun oil, and the faint trace of motor oil all undercut with a sweetness that was pure Dean. He wanted to taste the skin right over Dean’s pulse. He knew that Dean would let him, too. 

John had to choke back a sob. He knew he asked too much of Dean. He felt like every time this happened he got a little closer to crossing that line. The ache of pure want in his gut had him trembling. He wanted too much. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair. 

“It’s okay Dad. Just let me take care of you.” Dean whispered into his father’s shoulder, wrapping his arms tight around him and pulling him in even closer. God was he warm. John felt like Dean’s bare skin against him was warming from the inside out and, selfishly, he wanted more. 

John wrapped his arms tight around his boy and rolled them over so that he was on top, covering every inch of Dean’s body. Dean just smiled gently. He almost looked relieved. Something in his eyes said, _’Finally.’_

John hid his face in the crook of Dean’s neck again, but this time he didn’t resist the urge to press his mouth into the skin and taste. Dean was warm and faintly salty and when John’s teeth gently grazed his neck he let out the softest moan. 

There, in that quiet little noise, the line was crossed. John’s eyes finally filled with the tears he felt he’d been holding back for years. He didn’t stop kissing Dean’s neck, though. 

“It’s okay Dad.” Dean assured him, feeling the wetness of John’s tears against his neck. John couldn’t help think that it should have been him saying that to Dean, not the other way around. 

Dean’s callused hands slid up under John’s shirt. His fingers grazed his father’s chest and lingered over a scar. John rocked his hips instinctively at the touch and Dean let out a groan that rumbled through his entire body. 

John grunted in surprise as Dean tangled his fingers in his hair and pulled him down for a kiss. He was so stunned by the feeling of Dean’s lips and tongue against his own that he froze for a moment. Dean was patient though and kept on kissing John until he caught up and finally kissed back. 

Slowly the overwhelming feeling of _wrong_ was chased away by the warmth and sweetness of his son’s mouth. Dean was slow and gentle, like he had to be delicate with his father. It made John’s heart ache, but he needed it nonetheless.

Dean pulled his father’s hips down and rocked into them and John let out a gasp into the boy’s mouth. The bold move was quite a contrast to the delicate attention Dean was giving his mouth. John responded with a bold move of his own. He let his hands glide down Dean’s back and dipped his fingers under the waistband of the boy’s boxer briefs. 

“Dad…” Dean moaned out. John was struck by how very strange it was to be called ‘Dad’ in that particular context. He couldn’t imagine Dean calling him anything but ‘Dad’ or ‘sir’ though. Dean would have thought ‘John’ would be too disrespectful, context be damned. 

John hooked his thumbs on the waistband of Dean’s underwear and pulled them down past the smooth round curve of his ass. He was so soft and warm, how could John _not_ touch him? He palmed Dean’s ass and spread his cheeks a little, testing Dean’s reaction. He thought there might have been an unseen line Dean wouldn’t cross, but he was willing go as far as it took to find it. 

“Please…” Dean sighed into John’s ear as he rocked upwards. John took that as a green light and let his finger dip lower to graze Dean’s hole. Dean whispered for him to wait and John had a thousand miniature panic attacks in the short span of time between that moment and the moment he realized Dean was only reaching over to get a bottle of lube from the nightstand drawer.

“Dean, are you… sure?” John asked. Dean nodded, lips and cheeks flushed and hair tousled. He looked like sex and comfort and everything John needed. 

“Let me… I wanna be on your lap.” Dean said, trying to find the gentlest way to suggest a change of position, still afraid that the slightest wrong move might startle his father into stopping. John nodded and got up to sit with his back against the headboard. 

Dean took his boxer-briefs the rest of the way off before he followed and straddled his dad’s thighs. He leaned forward to kiss the corner of his mouth, chaste at first, before licking his way into the warm whiskey sweetness of John’s mouth.

Dean gently grasped his father’s fingers and slicked them up with the lube, distracting him by kissing along his jaw down to his neck. When he looked up John was staring at him in awe and disbelief. 

Dean wondered if maybe he had taken it too far this time. They’d slept next to each other and held each other close in ways that were clearly not appropriate for a father and his grown son, but they’d never gone past that point. Dean had been terrified every time he thought about it; scared of how his father would react, even though it seemed clear enough that he shared Dean’s feelings.

He wondered if he was taking advantage of his father’s distraught state. Dean almost let himself tailspin into the guilt until he realized his father was probably feeling the same way. He couldn’t soothe John if he needed soothing himself. He could feel that his father wanted him and he knew he wanted him back. Probably knew it long before the thought had ever crossed John’s mind, truth be told. 

When his father’s fingers were warm and slick with lube Dean guided the older man’s hand to the cleft of his ass and let him take it from there. He was worried that John might stop without further guidance, but his fears were unwarranted. He felt the gentle prodding and caress of his father’s fingers between his cheeks and against his hole, teasing and surprisingly gentle from a man that was usually so gruff and firm. 

Dean let himself moan freely, wanting his voice to remind John that he was enjoying this too, that he wanted this. He leaned into his dad’s neck and kissed and licked at him. When John’s finger finally slid in up to the first knuckle Dean let out a gasp and wrapped his arms tight around his dad’s neck. He dropped his head to rest against a strong shoulder because he was too distracted to keep kissing. 

Dean felt bathed in warmth and safer than he’d felt in years, there in his father’s lap. He looked up and saw that feeling reflected in John’s eyes, a look of awe and appreciation. 

“I love you, you know that.” John whispered. It wasn’t a question. He knew better than to question his son’s love. He could question anything and everything else in the world, but not that. 

“Love you too.” Dean said breathlessly. John eased his finger in a little at a time, pulling out and then sliding in a little deeper on each gentle thrust. Dean appreciated the care and tenderness John was showing him, but he was also hard and eager and a little impatient after waiting and wanting for so long. 

“Please Dad, just- just need _more_.” Dean groaned, clutching the back of John’s neck like a lifeline. John obliged him and slid his finger all the way in a couple times before finally nudging in a second finger. All the while he kissed and sucked at Dean’s neck and collarbone, leaving Dean’s mouth free to make the noises John was quickly becoming addicted to. 

Dean let himself adjust to the stretch of his father’s thick fingers before finally encouraging him to add a third. He was rocking his hips, both pushing back into the fingers and grinding his bare cock against John’s lap, desperate for more, but willing himself to be patient. When the third finger pressed into Dean’s tight hole he couldn’t help biting down on John’s shoulder, stifling a particularly loud moan. 

“God… Dean you’re so- fuck- so tight.” John growled out. He was rocking up into Dean, just as eager as the younger man for more friction. Feeling his son’s tight hole clenching around his fingers wasn’t doing much for his patience. 

“I’m ready, c’mon.” Dean urged. John pulled out his fingers and his son let out a sigh at the sudden emptiness. Dean scooted down his father’s legs and tugged at the hem of John’s shirt, signaling him to finish getting undressed. Dean had found it strangely arousing to be completely naked and exposed while his dad was still (at least partially) dressed, but now he wanted as much warm bare skin touching him as he possibly could. 

John pulled off his shirt and lifted his hips to pull off his boxers, the front of which were damp from both his and Dean’s precome where they’d been grinding together. Dean immediately scooted back up to straddle John’s thighs, leaving enough space between them so that he could stroke his dad’s thick cock between them. 

Dean dropped his forehead down against his father’s chest so that he could watch as he stroked him and coated his cock with a generous amount of lube. Dean wasn’t a virgin by any means, but he was also not going to underestimate the size of John’s thick curved cock. He reached back and slicked up his hole with a little more lube before finally giving into John’s plaintive moans. 

Dean lifted himself to his knees and scooted forward on his John’s. He guided his dad’s cock, lining it up and slowly lowering himself down on it. John was gripping his hips firmly, helping him ease down until he bottomed out. He pulled Dean forward for a scorching kiss, letting his son adjust to the thick pressure of his cock before either of them moved. 

John had one hand palming Dean’s ass while he tucked the other between their bodies to grip the boy’s leaking cock. Dean let out a breath and started rocking his hips, up into his father’s tight grasp and down onto his lap.

“So good, so good.” Dean said, repeating the sentiment with each roll of his hips. His father groaned in agreement. 

Between the sweet aching fullness in his ass and the steady stroking of the thick callused fingers around his cock, Dean was working quickly towards his orgasm. He lifted his ass almost all the way off John’s cock before slamming down again. He was past the slow and controlled portion of the evening.

“Fuck! M’so close.” John groaned. He was trying to hold back so he could feel Dean coming around him first. Dean got the message loud and clear and tilted the angle of his hips to make sure John’s next thrust caught his prostate. 

After a couple adjustments Dean managed to get it just right. He rode his father’s cock hard, gasping each time he hit that spot. He opened his eyes and looked at his father. The look of pure lust on John’s face was enough to send Dean over the edge, spilling hot come over his father’s fingers and stomach. 

Dean’s hole clenched and released in time with his orgasm, bringing his dad right to the edge with him. John came so hard he saw lights in front of his eyes, his come coating his son from the inside in wet messy spurts. 

Dean rode him right through it before finally collapsing forward against his father’s sweat slick chest. He wanted to wait a little longer before pulling off. He wanted to hold onto the feeling of warm and full and wet for as long as he could until the rapidly cooling come between them got to be too uncomfortable. 

John couldn’t help himself. The moment Dean lifted off of him, he was reaching behind him to feel the slick mess of his come dripping out of Dean’s hole. He traced the rim of muscle with his finger as it slowly tried to squeeze tight again, pushing his come back inside. 

Dean understood the compulsion. He shared his father’s desire to keep his come inside him for as long as possible. It was possessive and dirty and he couldn’t help wanting it. John finally pulled back, wiping his messy fingers on the cheap motel sheets. 

When Dean went to stand up and head to the bathroom John grabbed his wrist and pulled him into kiss him once more. He was afraid that Dean might not understand what he felt, what Dean did for him. He needed the boy to know that this was something that was always there, even when it didn’t seem obvious. He needed him to know that this feeling carried beyond the quiet motel rooms, invisible but ever-present.

Dean smiled into the kiss and almost climbed right back in the bed, despite the come running down his thighs. Instead he pulled John up with him and guided him to the shower and when John saw the soft smile lighting up his son’s face, he was sure that Dean understood. Just as his love for his son could never be questioned, the same could be said of Dean’s love for him. 

They both knew that this wasn’t how it would always be. It just couldn’t be. 

Hunting both tied them together and kept them apart. 

Blood both tied them together and kept them apart. 

Their pain both tied them together and kept them apart. 

But every once in a while, the walls would all come crumbling down and there would be nothing but love and need between them. They would take their comfort in each other and keep the secret of it close to their hearts. The tiny flame of it would sometimes threaten to burn them up, but other times it seemed like it was the only thing keeping them warm. 

Sometimes it felt like a fire bright enough to keep all the monsters at bay, at least for one night. Sometimes one night is all you need. Sometimes John Winchester _did_ have good nights.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out [my tumblr](http://cultofcastiel.tumblr.com/) over here. Pretty much a Teen Wolf and Supernatural fandom blog, if you're into that sorta thing :)


End file.
